


Peroxide Problems

by andachippedcup



Series: Domestic Belle [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 20:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andachippedcup/pseuds/andachippedcup





	Peroxide Problems

He doesn’t like the notion of having Belle sleeping anyplace but next to him, even for one night. But she’s looking at him with those piercing blue eyes of hers and her bottom lip is jutting out at the most heinous, pity-inducing angle (where on earth did she learn to  _pout_  like that?) and really, what harm will  _one_  sleep over do?

So he says yes and she shrieks and flings her arms around his neck, kisses him sweetly and mutters a thousand thank yous and darts off to gather her things, leaving him to ponder how exactly he got roped into letting his little Belle go off for a night with the wolf-girl.

He drops her off outside the bed & breakfast and watches her skip up to the front door, where Ruby ushers her inside with a scarlet painted grin and a casual wave his way. He watches the door swing closed and with a sigh, he directs the Cadillac away from the curb and back toward the house that will be entirely too still without  _her_  in it.

——-

He passes the evening quite unremarkably. He reads the paper for a spell, fiddles with some items he’d brought home yesterday from the shop, makes himself a microwaveable dinner and then settles in front of the fire.

When he goes to bed (early, it’s not like there’s anything entertaining to do with her gone), he tosses and turns, unable to get comfortable or fall asleep. The empty space beside him is too vast without her there to occupy her side of the bed she’s only recently taken to sleeping in (before that she slept on the floor, it being more like the hospital cell she had been used to).

And so his night is spent in fitful bouts of sleep punctuated by long periods of staring at her side of the bed and wondering what she might be doing at that moment.

——-

When he wakes in the morning, he’s sore and exhausted and positively  _cantankerous_. He wants his wife back and he wants her now,  _damn it_ , but he’s not due to pick her up until that evening. Apparently this ‘sleepover’ also entails at home spa time (in his mind, this involves a great deal of nail polish and gossip), as well as lunch and shopping in town.

He’s just finished off an unremarkable breakfast of some bland wheat-bran-something-healthy-with-fiber  _crap_  when he hears the phone ringing from the hall. Placing his bowl in the sink, he goes to it quickly, expecting the Sheriff’s crisp, professional voice, or perhaps Regina, all sharp tones and hidden messages.

Instead, the voice he hears is none other than Ruby, a bit shrill and difficult to make out over the sound of muffled screaming in the background. He realizes, after a few moments, that he knows the voice doing the screaming and he nearly drops the phone in alarm.

“Ruby, why the  _fuck_  is my wife screaming?!” He roars into the mouthpiece, the hand clenched around his cane going white at the knuckles.

“Mr. Gold, she’s okay I swear!” Ruby defends, and he can tell he’s frightened her more than Belle screaming  _bloody fucking murder_  in the background has.

“You have one minute to explain.” He hisses, his teeth flashing in a snarl that she can’t see but can certainly hear from the dangerous tone of his voice.

“It’s…well, it’s something you really need to  _see,_ Mr. Gold.” Ruby hesitates, searching for words. “I promise she’s fine, just please, come over now?” She’s pleading and she doesn’t need to ask him twice. He’s slammed the phone back on the hook and is out the door before she even realizes he’s no longer on the line.

——

He skids to a stop out front of Ruby’s, leaving behind a rather ghastly pair of black skid marks in the process.  _Oh well_ , he thinks without remorse.

He ascends the steps to the front door quickly, and doesn’t even bother to knock; even from outside he can make out the sound of Belle screaming. It’s doubtful Ruby would hear him even if he were to knock and honestly, he’s not going to waste the time finding out just how fine tuned her wolfy senses are.

He strides inside the house and follows the sound of his beloved’s voice up the stairs and to what he can only assume is Ruby’s bedroom. When he enters the room, Ruby’s there, pleading with Belle from the bedroom side of the bathroom door.

“Belle,  _please_ , calm down! You’ll be fine! It’ll go away eventually!” Ruby pleads tiredly.

“I’m not fine!  _I’m dying!_ ” Belle’s answering scream is hardly confidence inspiring. Instantly after speaking, she’s reduced to unintelligible sobbing again and he feels something inside him snap. Without a word of greeting to Ruby, he brushes past the girl and goes to the door himself.

“Belle, dearie what’s the matter?” He coos into the crack of the doorframe, and instantly her wailing softens to a loud sniffling, hiccupping sound.

“Ruby, you called my  _husband_?” She snaps from behind the closed door. “He  _can’t_  see me like this! Not until we  _make it better_!” She trills sharply, though her voice softens the second she addresses him through the door.

“Go home, I’ll call you later. You can’t see me like this.” She whimpers.

“Belle, m’love, I’m not going anywhere.” He returns, putting the palm of his hand to the door, willing it to open so that his hands could hold her instead.

“No, please. You can’t. You can’t see me like this. I look  _dreadful_.” She cries softly. His eyes swing to Ruby, who has hung back this entire time.

“What is she talking about Ruby?” He queries quietly, causing the girl to shift guiltily.

“We were going to do each other’s hair.” She begins to explain, fiddling with the silver bangles on her wrists when she’s suddenly interrupted by Belle.

“ _Don’t you dare tell him! He can’t know!_ ” She screams, and from the loud ‘thump’ sound, he assumes she’s either punched the door or thrown her shoe at it. Ruby’s eyes grow wide and she halts, unsure whether or not to go on.

“Belle, either you come out and tell me the story yourself, or Ruby will tell me it. But one way or another dearie, I promise you I’ll find out.” He responds calmly to the closed door and then with a nod, bids Ruby to continue.

“Well…my Gran called me from downstairs just as we were going to do each other’s hair. And I had told Belle she could use some of my leave-in hair conditioner.” She explains, biting her lip for a moment before continuing. “And…it’s my fault really, I forgot it was even in the pantry, I should have remembered and warned her-”

“Ruby dearie, the point.  _Please find it_.” He hastens.

“Right! Well, she grabbed the wrong bottle. I have an old conditioner bottle of peroxide and bleach mix. For when I do my hair. I have to bleach it before I dye it red, so the red shows up. And Belle must have grabbed the bleach bottle and I  _told her_  to be generous with the leave-in conditioner and well, she was generous with the peroxide….” Ruby trails off, wearing the expression of a deer in the headlights, as if she expects him to lash out.

“And…?” He questions, still not fully comprehending. “What, is her hair frizzy? Dry? _What Ruby_?” He prods because heavens help him, he is a  _man_  and  _men_  do not trouble themselves with these matters. At least, not men originally born a few centuries ago in an entirely separate world than this one.

“Well…I didn’t realize, because she’d put the bottle away by the time I came back. And she had a little shower cap on, so I didn’t see her hair turn orange and-”

He blanches at this and not just because Belle has let out a howl at the mere mention of the word ‘orange’, but because…really?  _Orange_? No wonder Belle has been screaming. What a bloody  _awful_  color.

“Ruby… do you mean to tell me you turned my wife’s hair  _orange_?” His face is stony and his voice low. His wife is half Oompa Loompa.  _No, wait, Oompa Loompas have orange skin, not hair_. Oh well. Same difference, really. Orange skin, orange hair – they’re equally unattractive on little imp men. (Not like gold, gold’s a rather flattering color. He would know.)

Ruby goes white as a sheet.

“Well, no. I mean, it  _was_  orange, but I took her to the hair stylist straight away and she fixed it… sort of.”

“ _Ruby_.” He presses, but before she can answer, there’s a soft ‘click’ from behind them and Belle emerges with a towel wrapped around her head, her hair hidden from sight beneath it.

“Fixed?!” She half screeches. “Ruby, that woman didn’t  _fix_  my hair! She turned it _blonde_!” She whimpers, ripping the towel away to reveal a tousled mass of golden blonde hair and his jaw falls open just slightly.

He adores Belle. Adores  _everything_  about her from her fierce spirit and her innocent little mind to her slender little body and every single mahogany lock of hair. He’s never considered her making a change, never even  _fathomed_  her changing. Certainly, he’s never wished for it. Belle is beautiful in every regard, just as her name implies. And he loves her with or without her looks.

But looking at her right now? Well, it’s hard for him to really put into words.

No, she’s not at her finest at the moment. Her eyes are swollen and still wet with tears from earlier, her cheeks are flushed and the rest of her face is pale and perfect as always. But now, that face is framed by blonde hair instead of brown.

He loves Belle’s brown hair.  _Loves it_. It looks every bit as innocent as her. It’s that ‘girl next door’ look that love interest of the hero always seems to have in every great story. It’s a look that is distinctly  _her_.

But Belle in  _blonde_? Belle in hair that’s a perfect shade of goldenrod? Oh skies above,  Belle with hair of gold, which is arguably his favorite color?

Belle in blonde is… _sexy_. In a new and exciting, very forthright, impossible-to-ignore sort of way. He’s always known her to be beautiful, but if she were to walk down Main Street like this? Hell, he would have far more to contend with than a boy-soldier and his toy sword knocking at his door. In blonde, his little Belle becomes Helen of Troy, the woman for whom wars are fought and the face men fight and die in order to reclaim.

Really, the parallel isn’t much of a stretch.

He’s smirking at the mental image and he’s been so distracted by the sight of her that he’s forgotten she’s awaiting his response.

“I knew it! It’s  _dreadful_! I have a head of  _straw for hair_!” Belle sobs, whirling to run back to hide in the bathroom. Lurching forward, he catches her wrist and pulls her in close.

“Belle! Belle, come here dearie, hush now.” He quiets her, brushing away a few locks of hair from her face (all the while trying  _very_  hard not to let that simple action lead to more). “You look  _lovely_ , dearie.”

“Your silent response would indicate otherwise.” She pouts into his chest, refusing to look him in the eyes. With a gentle hand, he tilts her face up so she meets his gaze.

“I was silent, dearie, because  _you took my breath away_.” He corrects her. She blinks a few times at him, and then shakes her head in disbelief.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” She sniffs, wiping unshed tears out of her eyes.

“Belle.” He intones more forcefully, once more demanding her gaze. He casts an awkward glance Ruby’s way, and then lowers his voice in an attempt at being discreet. “Dearie, I would love to  _prove_  to you just how much I like your new hairstyle, but this is _hardly_  the time or the place.” His voice is a low growl, but there’s nothing menacing about it. It’s a growl that says he loves her (and yes, there’s a healthy dose of lust mixed in there too), a growl that says he wants her  _here and now_.

Her cheeks suffuse as she puts two and two together, her eyes dropping to stare at the ground in pleased embarrassment, biting her lip all the while (and  _seven hells_ , she doesn’t know the effect she has on him when she does that).

“Yeah?” It’s a question. Bless her, she always has needed the affirmation and he can’t really blame her. Three decades in an asylum justifies the need for reassurance.

“ _Oh, yeah_.” He responds, his voice still that low, urgent growl. Belle’s face breaks into a shy smile and she ducks her head in a brief nod. He wraps her up into a tight hug and she’s still smiling into him as he guides her away with a smile and quick word of thanks to Ruby. Belle peers out from behind him and smiles and offers a shy thank you for the sleepover and Ruby can only nod numbly in response as the pair of them practically sashay out the door.

Ruby’s left in their wake, wide eyed and confused, shaking her head in confusion.  _Only the Golds_ , she thinks with a sigh and a soft chuckle as she realizes something.

_Mrs. Gold is now officially golden haired._

That thought keeps her laughing as she cleans up the remaining mess from what will come to be known (by Ruby and Belle at least) as ‘the great accidental hair dying of 2012’.  

——-

 If Belle had any doubts about just how much he fancies her new look, he’s fairly certain he’s put those fears to bed (much the way he put  _her_ to bed last night, he thinks with a dark smirk). He’s up before her the next morning, downstairs fixing tea for the pair of them when a piercing scream sends adrenaline shooting through him and fear floods him.

He’s up the stairs as fast as his bad knee will get him there. He flings the bedroom door open and sees the bed is empty. He goes to the bathroom and there he finds her, leaning heavily against the sink, one hand clamped over her mouth.

“Belle?!” He breathes in relief, going quickly to her and scooping her up into his arms. His heart is still hammering as she presses her face to his chest and lets out a half sigh, half giggle.

“What,” he growls, “is so funny? You scared me half to death, little lamb.” He breathes in the smell of her, his face nestled against her hair as his heart slowly resumes normal function.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She answers apologetically as she nuzzles his neck. “I just… got startled, that’s all.” She shifts uncomfortably and he frowns before pulling away a bit so he can look at her.

“Startled by what, love?” And when she blushes, he knows that this is, like as not, something that will make him laugh.

“Well… my reflection.”

His brow quirks and he suppresses a grin (fortunately he was prepared to).

“Oh? I don’t find your blonde hair quite that frightening, dearie.” He smirks, and she swats his arm playfully.

“It  _wa_ s the hair.” She admits, her cheeks brick red now. “I…I thought someone else was in our bedroom and I got scared and I screamed…. Then I realized it was just me.”

This time, he can’t bite back the deep, booming laughter that swells within him from somewhere deep in his gut. She folds her arms crossly, but even he can see through the act by the way her frown twitches at the corners, threatening to turn into a grin.

Try as he might, he can’t stop laughing until Belle finally figures out the best way to quiet him is to put his mouth to better use and she plants a fierce, deep kiss right on his lips. He responds in kind and soon enough, the laughter’s stopped and they’re just a couple of kissing, grinning loons in love.  

They take breakfast later than usual that morning and he spends the meal across the table grinning at her, his newly blonde, messy haired, cherry lipped and cheeked little Belle.

Belle in blonde. Yes, he could get rather used to this.


End file.
